


Don't let me walk this road alone (I thought you'd lead me)

by Sevi007



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Crying, During DMC5, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, More to be added as the story goes on - Freeform, Patty centric fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22652095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevi007/pseuds/Sevi007
Summary: It's only days after Patty's eighteenth birthday and instead of celebrating it with her, Dante is out of town. What is supposed to be "just another job" for the legendary demon hunter turns out to be so much more than that, and Patty is left behind fearing for her friend's - her family's - very lives, all the while starting to uncover just how little she had really known Dante in all those years. What's this "family" Dante is supposed to have, and why did he never tell her about them? Why does Dante have a branch office in Fortuna, anyway? And who, pray tell, is Tony Redgrave?(Set during DMC5; focuses on Patty's perspective on things)
Relationships: Dante & Patty Lowell, Patty Lowell & Morrison
Comments: 23
Kudos: 86





	Don't let me walk this road alone (I thought you'd lead me)

**Author's Note:**

> VERY excited to share this with you, guys! =D I will be taking a shot at Patty's side of things, here; I love that girl to bits ever since I've seen the anime, and I was both delighted to see they "made her canon" in the games as well, and horribly disappointed we only got one phone call with her and didn't even get to see her - and I couldn't stop thinking "Okay but after that, Dante goes missing for more than a month? How did she react to that?!" 
> 
> So here we go! My attempt at giving her some love AND answering my own musings! Hope you will like it. <3

_"My childhood hero will always be you_

  
_And no one else comes close_

  
_I thought you'd lead me when life's misleading_

  
_That's when I miss you most"_

**\- "You let me walk alone" by Michael Schulte**

First he hung up in the middle of her sentence, and then he didn’t pick up when she tried to call again.

Typical.

Had she been anyone else – had _he_ been anyone else – Patty would have flown into an offended rage the moment the ringing ended and the other and of the line went dead too completely too early. (He really had just pulled the plug on her, hadn’t he?)

But she was Patty and he was Dante and this was how it had always been between them; push and pull, held close and held at arm’s length, at each other’s throat one second and best of friends the next. It had earned them the moniker _children_ from Morrison more than once, said with fond exasperation, and they didn’t really have in in them to protest, because it was true and it was fun and it was just how they worked.

It was who they were.

So instead of gaping, instead of smashing the phone back onto its station, Patty laughed out loud and shook her head with a muttered _jerk_ and put the phone down as casually as if she hadn’t just been shot down in the middle of a very nice invitation.

She had never expected him to agree, anyway.

She was still smiling when she turned around and threw herself back into the part – _her_ party, which was still in full swing, filled with friends and superficial acquaintances and not one of the people she really considered family, because not a single one of them would have viewed this as their scene, and Patty would have agreed with them. They would catch up with a real celebration in the days after, she knew that quite well. 

Greeting people left and right and accepting more well wishes with a wave of her hand and a laugh, newly eighteen years old Patty Lowell went to get herself a drink, in the back of her mind already imagining what Dante would come up with for her birthday this year, anticipating the moment when he called her back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dante did not call her back.

Not the day after the party, for which Patty was half-grateful; cleaning up what chaos her guests had left behind and making the house presentable again had been a right pain, nearly worse than cleaning up the shop on a bad day.

But also not in the following days, which stumped her a bit. He was usually quicker about this, didn’t leave her waiting too long. She had once accused him, jokingly, of being eager to spend the day after her birthday – or after her party, more like – with her. It had taken nearly the whole afternoon to get him to stop pouting over it. ( _Scowling, you brat_ , she heard him grumble in her head, _I don’t pout_ )

The urge to call him instead reared its head after days of silence but she shoved it down. It was _her_ birthday after all, and _he_ had yet to congratulate her. It was only natural that he would be the one to reach out, right?

And anyway – if she called him now simply because she hadn’t heard from him, he would never let her live it down that she had worried for him. As if she did! Obviously, he was quite capable of staying safe; there was no reason to worry at all.

A whole week passed, and Patty’s confusion grew, whispering worries starting to creep in. College started up again that Monday, and she was distracted over the course of the day from wondering if maybe, she _really_ had annoyed him this time around without even realizing? But no, it took much more than that to really make him cross with her. She had years of experience testing the boundaries in their relationship, and by now she knew quite well the difference between a Dante who pretended to be angry with her and a Dante who was well and truly angry with her.

He very rarely, if ever, was the later, with her.

And yet once she got home, a full week after her birthday party, there still had been no message, no missed call from the Devil May Cry.

The whispering got louder while Patty dashed up the stairs, not really looking where she went while she dug through the side pockets of her satchel for her phone. By the time she was in her room, dropping the satchel to the floor forgotten and kicking the door shut absentmindedly, she had already opened her contacts and scrolled down to Morrison’s name, thumb hovering in the middle over the call and the text button.

She chose text and flopped down heavily onto her bed, legs hanging off the sides while she typed furiously.

**Patty**

11/05 - 17:21

_You guys in? Might come over_

There. That sounded innocent enough; no hints of any beginning worries to be heard and it would hopefully still get her an explanation why there had been radio silence for their side.

Realizing it wouldn’t get her a respond any faster if she kept staring at the tiny screen, Patty threw her arms out to wide, phone in a tight grip, and looked up at the ceiling instead. Tried to see only the planes of white and very vehemently _not_ the resurfacing images of burning buildings, cackling skull faces and Dante at a cross, held there by a sword through-…

Her phone buzzed, and she shook her head firmly to clear it of the memories. _God. What are you, twelve? It’s not the same. Nothing happened._

The neatly drafted message popping up on her screen immediately brightened her mood, easing the pressure on her chest somewhat. It didn’t matter how many times she had tried to tell the man how _unnecessary_ correct punctuation in a text message was, he kept being stubborn.

**Morrison**

11/05 - 17:29

_Sorry, princess. He got a big job out of town._

_Don’t give him too much grief over not calling yet, alright?_

_He has a good excuse this time._

**Patty**

11/05 - 17:31

_Alright fine only because you said so!_

_Tell him he owes me at least 10 ice creams for being late for my b-day_

_See you guys later??_

**Morrison**

11/05 - 17:38

_I reckon a week, give or take._

_See you then, Miss Patty_

Patty stared at the screen, waiting for something else, something _more_ , until it turned dark. The messages seemed unfamiliarly short as she read over them again, devoid of gentle teasing and jokes. 

But, no. She was just seeing things, because she had started to worry already. They were just busy, that was why the messages were so short.

_One week,_ she reminded herself while she got back to her feet and went to retrieve her things where she had dropped them so carelessly before. _I can do one week. Easy._

_It’s just another job. He will be back in no time._

She opened the door just in time to hear the tell-tale jingle of keys in the lock downstairs. Seconds later her mother’s voice travelled up to her, her own name both question and greeting.

“Here, Mum!” The satchel found its place next to her desk before Patty hurried back out of her room, jumping down the stairs two steps at a time. “Wait, let me help you with the groceries!” 

“I can manage, don’t worry.” Nina’s hair was tousled from the wind outside, healthy color high on her cheeks. She smiled around the two bags she was carrying when her daughter approached.

Her smile came more easily, these days, more naturally. It was a beautiful thing to behold.

Patty simply huffed at her and wrangled her out of one of the two bags, turning decisively towards the kitchen before her mother could argue about it. “Too late! What’s for dinner?”

“You can choose. I thought we could cook together?”

“Sounds great!” Beaming at the idea, Patty began digging through the bag, unearthing items and organizing them in piles depending on where they needed to be put. “Anyway, how was your day? Anything interesting?”

Her mother began retelling events of the day, common, everyday things, her hands complete with food items moving about to accentuate certain parts. Patty listened and nodded along, laughing at the right parts and commenting on others. For a little while, all thoughts about missed birthdays and jobs and the supernatural took a backseat.

For a little while, everything was alright in the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Patty? Patty! You’re going to be late if you don’t hurry!”

“Mum, did you see my book anywhere? I swear I put it here on the living room table-…”

“Which one, sweetie? You know all your college books look the same to me.”

“The one about – the one I was reading yesterday evening, with the blue cover! _Sheesh!_ ”

The exclamation wasn’t directed her mother’s way but rather at the desperate search yielding no results. Patty chucked the couch pillow she had lifted up back into its place and ran a hand through her hair, turning in her spot and casting her glance all over the room.

The slow morning had turned into a whirlwind of hurrying and searching in a moment. One second Patty had been finishing her breakfast and contemplating if she could text Morrison again now or if on the dot a week since their last conversation later would seem too eager, half paying attention to the weather forecast on TV - and the next she had been up and about and upturning anything not nailed down for the one book she _needed_ to bring for the mock exam today. She had had it just last evening, skimming over it a final time while sitting next to her mother on the couch; where could she have left it if not in the living room?! 

“Did you check your room?” Nina popped her head around the corner while shrugging on her jacket, keys dangling in her hand already.

“I’m sure I left it in here, Mum!” The urge to stomp her foot was a strong one yet she resisted. She was an _adult_ now for heaven’s sake and she could very well behave like one.

“I know, but maybe you could take a quick look just to be sure-…”

Whatever Nina had been about to say went forgotten when she trailed off. It took Patty a moment to realize what had caught her attention, busy as she was searching the same spots again. Only when she paused and glanced over at her mother again, readying to ask for a ride to school, did she notice the older woman staring at the TV, eyes wide. Oh, right. Patty had entirely forgotten to turn it off when she had sprung into motion.

Once she turned to see what had her mother so entranced, she wished she had remembered.

The screen showed something which could have been ripped straight out of her most vivid nightmares; eerily similar and yet nothing alike at all. A shaking camera view pictured streets bursting wide open, concrete and earth flying to all side while the ground gaped wide open, while cars screeched to halts or plunged in the chasms. A black mass intersected with glistening red burst through the newly formed holes rapidly, writhing and stretching into long, gigantic strands – vines, no, _roots_ , Patty realized with a nauseating wave of horror as she watched those things reach high into the sky before turning course and plunging back into the earth below, causing further damage to anything in their path, be it buildings, ground or living beings. Nothing withstood the sheer force of it as they took hold.

The screen changed. Not for the better: A steadier camera work presented the wreckage of what looked to have been a main street once; it was deserted save for more of those roots, crisscrossing over it and lining the sides of it. In the distance, behind a cloud of dust and debris, a monstrous _something_ loomed over everything. Its sheer size was immeasurable from this close up; not even when the camera tilted and followed it upwards could one make out where it ended. 

“… _a tree-like structure seemingly appeared from underground in the center of Red Grave City…,”_ a male voice-over droned on, tone far too nasal and even for what was transpiring in the meantime.

The pile of magazines Patty had lifted from the coffee table flapped from her limp hand and scattered all over the floor. She didn’t even notice. Legs starting to shake, she staggered a step back and sat heavily onto the couch behind her, gaze never leaving the TV.

Muffled screams and crying could be heard over the speakers. On screen, people ran and stumbled, dodging roots and abysses and other humans. There were some who fell; those who did and did not get back up fast enough started to crumble out of nowhere, skin turning ashen and dry and falling away in fast forward until it all turned to dust. It all happened in a matter of grisly seconds. There was nothing more left behind of the person there had once been other than a reddish husk falling apart.

_“… eyewitnesses claiming the phenomenon is accompanied by monstrous creatures of unknown… “_

Another change of scene; shadows leaped across the scenery, too fast to keep track. The skittering of claws could be heard. A howl which had Patty’s skin breaking out in goosebumps of _recognition_ echoed from the house walls left and right.

_“… city being evacuated for the unforeseeable…”_

Yet another switch. Bird’s eyes perspective now; the sound of rotor blades very quietly in the background. The streets leading out of the city were crowded, lines and lines of cars as the eye could see. In between police cars and fire trucks; officers trying to bring some order into the panicked escape out of what had become Hell on earth.

Left behind was a veritable ghost town, a monstrous, twisted heart at its center which seemed to slowly creep further and further with every beat.

The television screen abruptly went dark and dead with a quiet, final _Click._ It ripped Patty from the trance she had fallen into; blinking, she turned her head, mouth agape, to find her mother standing next to the couch looking as pale as she likely was, remote still gripped too tightly in a shaking hand and pointed towards the silent screen.

When Nina slowly turned and found her daughter gaping at her, she shook herself and cleared her throat. She put the remote down with hardly a tremor in her hand and looked up again with a smile too strained and misplaced on her white face. “Well. Looks like Dante has his work cut out for him again, doesn’t it?”

It should have been a joke, or a reassurance. It didn’t quite manage to be either.

“Mum…” Patty did not know how to continue. The sound of her own voice, weak and pleading, was grating to her own ears.

“Come now,” Nina’s spine had straightened, her control was back in place; she was a master in appearing stronger than she felt, a trait Patty had spotted in her mother as well as recognized in herself in the past years. “We’re both going to be late if we don’t hurry. And we both hate being late.”

Everything felt far away, somehow; Patty was distantly aware of being ushered through the last few steps of her morning routine and out the door to the car, her mother’s strained yet voice and gentle hands guiding her through it, but her mind was racing. Pieces were falling into place, clicking like shards, and started to paint a horrifying picture to her mind’s eye.

_“… got his work cut out for him-…”_

_“… got a big job out of town..”_

_“ … Red Grave City…”_

She didn’t even notice that she had left her book behind now, after all, or that her vision was starting to blur.

_Dante._

_Please tell me you’re not **there**. _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Patty**

18/05 – 07:58

_The job is in Red Grave isn’t it_

_I saw the news_

**Patty**

18/05 – 09:01

_Morrison is Dante there?_

_Is he with you?_

_-_

_If he is with you get him on the phone_

**Patty**

18/05 - 12:01

_Morrisn it was on the radio too now!_

_Why are you not telling me where he is_

_Hes there right_

_in Red Grave_

**Patty**

18/05 – 15:03

_you cant just ignore me_

_MORRISON_

_-_

18/05 – 15:08

_Please_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Had anyone asked her later what she hoped to find at the Devil May Cry when she _knew_ , without the shadow of a doubt, that Dante was not there, Patty couldn’t have told them. Her feet carried her in the right direction without her input, steering her away from the school building and well past her home until she reached streets so familiar she could have walked them in her sleep. Then and only then did her conscious mind take over again and she started running, shoes pounding onto the asphalt while she skidded around corners and took shortcuts through back alleys. There were shouts of people she almost run into, only reflexes letting her dodge in time, but she didn’t hear them over the rushing of blood in her ears nor look back.

It started raining long before she reached the shop; coming down in buckets, plastering hair and cloth to her, who hadn’t had a single thought to spare today for nonsensical things like umbrellas, in mere seconds. Patty didn’t care, _couldn’t_ care, with her breath whistling and stitches in her sides and only looking for reassurance that Dante was _alright, let him be alright, he can’t **not** be… _

The familiar glow of the neon sign raised mixed feelings in Patty once she turned the last corner; it was deceptively _comforting_ to see, even though she knew it didn’t have to mean a thing. Still it made her pick up her pace, made her move her aching legs faster, until she bounded up the stairs and against the door at full speed.

The front door was unlocked. Of course it was; how many times had they told Dante to lock it, only for him to snort or shrug or flap his hand at him or all three of those at the same time?

_“What would anyone want to steal from me? I got nothing valuable in there!”_

She would tell him again, as soon as he was home. To be more careful, to be a little less laidback. But for now, she was glad for it, breathing a relieved huff when the door swung open easily with a tug of her freezing hands and let her in the familiar darkness behind it.

_Please be here._

“Dante?!”

Her own voice ringing out in the gloomy room made her cringe, the echo of it far too hopeful and small and childlike.

“… Patty?”

For a moment, her heart leapt in joy and relief at the answer from deeper in the shop – only to crash and burn almost in the same moment. It was the wrong voice; the wrong shadowy shape moving and rising in the darkness behind a desk unusually devoid of clutter and empty pizza boxes.

The desk lamp clicked on, and Morrison blinked at her through narrowed, bloodshot eyes. He looked as if he had aged one or two decades in the short time span since they had last seen each other; back and shoulders slumping, waistcoat, hat and cravat missing. The typically so neatly trimmed beard was an unkempt mess and yet still not enough to hide the lines which had carved themselves in-between his familiar features and turned them into a mask of exhaustion.

Once he seemed to realize that it was really her standing before him, Morrison seemed to sag even further. One hand on the desk to hold himself upright, he scrubbed the other over his face and murmured into his palm, “Ah, _hell_.”

Any other day, Patty would have been worried about seeing him so worn down; would maybe have barked a surprised laugh at the slip of a cuss. Now, something hard and cold in her chest and her belly twisting with nerves, she drew herself up with bravado she did not feel, arms crossed to hide the shivering. The ice in her voice almost surprised herself. She hadn’t been aware she could sound quite like this. “Where is he?” 

Morrison started to move, motions awkward and stiff and so, so tired as he stepped around the desk, hands rising in a placating gesture. “Princess…”

And something _snapped_ inside Patty, then, tension like a string which had built up all day ripping apart inside her. “Don’t. _Don’t_ you _princess_ me when you have been ignoring me-… do you have _any_ idea how I-… what you-… where. Is. Dante?!”

Her voice, cutting like a whip, had made him stop halfway across the room from her, frozen. Morrison’s expression looked as pained as if she had hit him. Right now, she wanted to do so, even, trembling with the urge of it. “Patty, he’s…”

And she knew, she _knew_ , then and there, had known it since watching the news this morning actually but it’s confirmed in his voice and his slumped shoulders and his frazzled state, and she wanted to _scream._ Instead, to her distant wondering, her voice only came out as a whisper. “He’s in Red Grave.”

“Yes.” If defeat had a voice, it would have sounded like this, right there.

“He’s in Red Grave,” Patty trembled right down to her very core. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, trying to push it away even though it has little to do with her being soaked through to the bone and everything with the images burned into her mind. “He’s in Red Grave, and you… you are _here?_ _Why?_ ”

There was only the sound of the rain outside and their breathing for a few beats, before Morrison spoke again, face half-hidden in the dark. “Dante lost.”

A high sound burst out of her throat before she could stop it, something approaching a hysterical giggle, and she shook her head. “No.”

“Patty.”

“Dante doesn’t… Dante doesn’t lose!” Dante. Losing. It’s such a ludicrous thought, she laughed again, on purpose this time. It came out like a bark, grating and harsh. “That’s… that just doesn’t _happen!_ ”

“ _Patty_.” Suddenly, it was Morrison’s voice which was raised and hard, and, oh, that was because she was still giggling madly, wasn’t it? Why was is she doing that, anyway? It was not a good joke, at all. “Patty, he lost. Lady, Trish, Dante – they all went in there, and they didn’t come back out.”

Something clenched inside her chest, sharp like nails, hearing Lady’s and Trish’s names fall in that sentence, too. Dante was bad enough, but all of them…?!

_Can’t be. Can’t be._

“They _lost_ , you hear me, princess? They _lost!_ ” 

“So WHAT?”

And there was her voice; there was the scream which had been building up inside her over the course of the entire day, breaking free. It ripped at her throat and made her eyes burn and Patty felt _relieved,_ flinging the might of her words across the room while she stomped her foot, hard. “So what?! He – _they_ have a hard time once, _once_ , and you _leave them behind?!_ GO GET THEM!”

“There was nothing we could _do!_ ” Morrison threw his hands up, starting to pace in front of the desk, left and right, left and right. “The entire city… Have you seen the place?! It’s completely overrun!”

“ _You left them!”_

“We had to back off and _regroup!_ ”

“YOU RAN AWAY!”

He let his face fall into his hands while he stopped, sharply. Hidden like that, he shook his head, over and over again, but did not turn around to her, nor did he yell back at her, or defend himself.

Patty _wanted_ him to yell back, suddenly; wanted a screaming match until she could feeling nothing but her hoarse throat. Cold terror had turned to blistering fury in her belly and she wanted an outlet; wanted to see him hurt like her heart hurt in her chest. Even while a distant part of her was horrified at her words, she shot them like one would shoot gun rounds, hoping to hit and injure. “You just left Dante and the others behind! You’re here when they aren’t! _Why?!_ ”

“There was nothing we could do,” Morrison said it quietly, firmly. Rubbing his hands over his face one last time he turned, meeting her gaze with nothing but gentleness and… pity. It nearly made her sick.

“There was nothing _you_ could have done, either, Patty.” 

_That_ blindsided her into silence; it felt like someone had simultaneously pulled out the rug from under her feet and punched her in the stomach, all in one fell swoop. It took the wind out of her solely for the fact that he had hit, dead on, on that little nagging thought of _I should have been there, too._

_Why was I not there?_

The fact that Morrison had said it with such infinite understanding just made it so much worse, too. 

“Patty.” Morrison raised his hands to her, half in obvious surrender, half reaching for her, as he took a step forward. “Look…”

Patty was backing away from him, still shaking her head, before she even realized it. “No.”

“ _Patty_.”

“I’m going to get him.”

It froze him in the middle of his next step; she could _hear_ the hitch in his breath as his gaze searched for hers. “What?”

“I’m going to get him,” she repeated, louder this time. The moment it had left her mouth, it had seemed like the only possible solution – how had she not thought about it before… “He’s… he didn’t _lose,_ there’s no way he… I know him. He’s probably just taking a dumb… _nap_ or something, he… right?”

And she hated it, the way her voice broke on the last word, hopeful. Hated how the water still dripping from her hair was hot on her face and itched, salty and…

_Oh_. She had started crying without realizing. She felt like a child all over again; too small and too scared, desperately wanting to see one person who seemed so very far away.

How was it that Hell had seemed closer than a city, back then? Way less hopeless?

“Just a nap, again,” pushing the heel of her hand against her stupid, leaking eyes, Patty sniffed harshly and forced herself to talk through a tight throat. “Like, like last time. Stupid Dante, has the worst timing…I’m just going to…”

She didn’t get further than turning around for the door, driven by her newfound determination to go get Dante; apparently, she had vastly underestimated how _quick_ Morrison could be if he wanted to, age and exhaustion and everything. He was there when her trembling hands were still fiddling with the doorknob. Patty screamed immediately, wordlessly, when arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her against a warm chest and holding tight. Not missing a beat, she started struggling, kicking and hitting and screaming, fists drumming onto the limbs keeping her in place with all her strength. “Let go! LET GO!”

If anything, Morrison only held tighter, even as he grunted somewhere above and behind her when her elbow snapped back and hit him in the chest, _hard. “_ Patty, you _can’t-…_ ”

“I did last time! I can-… _let go off me, Morrison!”_ To her own horror, she felt the tears start anew, hot and sudden, running down her cheeks while a sob burst from her aching throat. She only redoubled her effort, throwing her arms up and behind to try and get at his face, anything to get him to let go off her.

Her nails snagged on something; distantly, she was aware of a pained hiss. Despite it, Morrison kept holding on, kept talking over her screams.

It all happened so fast, yet in the end, it seemed like an eternity that they stayed like that, locked in an ugly brawl right there on the wet floor of the empty shop, minutes or hours or maybe just seconds.

By the end of it, Patty did not even have the energy to struggle anymore, limbs too heavy to be lifted, sobs wracking her frames to strongly to keep yelling. All her fury had burnt and left her feeling hollow and aching. Instead of hitting and writhing, she found herself half-turned into the man behind her, face hidden in his shoulder while her hand was clutching his shirt in a dead grip and she blubbered through more sobs, “Let go, please, _please_ , I can’t just leave him there…”

There was a gentle hand of the back of her head, stroking through her dripping hair, and Morrison’s face was pressed against her temple. His voice was soft and broken yet fond all the same. “Sorry, princess. I’m so sorry. But he would never fucking forgive me if I let you go now.”

Somehow that made her sob all the harder still, burying deeper in the stranglehold-turned-embrace, all fight drained from her while she could only ask one question, over and over again. Plead for an answer which would never come.

_Where are you, Dante?_

**Author's Note:**

> * For those wondering about me stretching this over "weeks" in the story, it's actually because of the timeline of DMC5 to which I'm trying to stay as true as possible: V approaches Dante with the job on the 3th of May, but the fight against Urizen - where only V and Nero make it back out - is on the 16th May. Meaning nearly two weeks passed between V's appearance at Dante's shop, and with Urizen making his move, or, more like, with Dante and the others going to stop said moves. 
> 
> * This is my first longer story for quite a while; if the pacing of it is very off, please do tell me, I will try to do better in the following chapters!


End file.
